In the Land of Lost Souls
by Cecilia Green
Summary: Picks up at the end of Faith, Hope & Trick. When Angel comes back from Hell, he returns without a soul. He seeks out Buffy, looking for revenge, but then discovers that the passion and desire for the Slayer is not all gone. Things get a bit more complicated when Spike, Dru, and Darla suddenly show up. R&R please!
1. Prologue

**A/N: Alright, first Buffy fic. I admit, I haven't planned much for it, so this first chapter is mainly just a taste of what's to come. I promise that future ones will be longer. I would highly appreciate reviews, telling me what you guys think. Don't be afraid to criticize; it's the only way I'll know if I'm getting anything wrong. Plus, my continuity of the story kind of depends on the feedback I get, but I will try my absolute hardest to update regularly.**

**I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I'm just writing fanfiction about it. Again, please review, and I hope you enjoy!**

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**In the Land of Lost Souls**

**by Cecilia Green**

**Prologue**

I used to be so great. You know what I was called? "King of the Vampires." The one who had stood before the Master and took what he thought was his. I had it all – the girl, the power, the loyal followers. Now you might ask yourself, "What went wrong?" I can tell you.

A goddamn curse.

Over a hundred years of feeding off of vermin and sleeping in my own filth. I don't think anyone existed at that point who had sunk as low as I had. After that, I decided to clean myself up, get together with some Slayer. As disgusting as it was, it turned out to be the best decision that I ever made. Sure, I ended up getting stabbed with a sword and burning in Hell, but then my mistake came to set me free. She set her ring down at the place of my death. That ring – my tether to that reality – it brought me back from the torment and the inferno.

I was wild, confused, and animalistic. Heck, I didn't even remember who I was. Eventually, my memories came back, and I could've gone back to living in my little room in Sunnydale. I could've even tried to salvage my relationship with Buffy, but I didn't. And if you're wondering why, then I can tell you with this one simple fact. The thing about Hell is that it tends to burn away the soul.

I was back. I was bloodthirsty. I was out for revenge.

* * *

I was burning. The fire, the unbearable heat, scorched through my skin and pierced what was left of my heart like a white-hot knife. The pain wormed through my head, making it impossible to form a coherent thought. All I could process was the agony.

If there was anything left of my body, I would have writhed. If I had any lungs left, I would have screamed. But there was nothing, _nothing_ in me but the fire. I couldn't see, think, or smell. I could only endure.

Then, out of the fire and the pain, I heard something. Actually _heard_ for the first time in what felt like centuries. It was a girl's voice, so soft and fragile, and it rung through space with surprising clarity. "Goodbye," it said. After that, there was a small _clink_ sound, like metal touching stone. I could see then. After getting over the initial surprise of being able to see, I realized what I was looking at. It was a ring. _My _ring, I realized. It started to shake, the spin on the floor. The faster it vibrated, the more this strange feeling spread through me.

I felt cold; I felt solid; I could feel my body taking form, and then there was an explosion of white light and a blast of cool air, and I was falling.

I landed on the floor. For a moment I could neither see nor feel. I was just numb. Then, the sensations slowly came back to me, and I could tell that I felt sick. Unbelievable nausea clouded in my mind, alongside confusion and coldness. I was vaguely aware that I was shivering and gasping, trying to breathe, but no air came. I realized then that I couldn't breathe, but that didn't seem to matter. I tried to get up, but my arms and legs were limp and useless. I raised my head weakly and looked around. My vision was shattered, and clouded with red and black, but I was able to see a marble floor and unlit torches lining the walls.

It took me a while, but eventually, I was able to think. Single words came to me at a time. _Fire – Hell – Sick – Hungry. _That last word stuck in my head. My eyes bulged and I began to salivate. _Hungry. So, so hungry._ I began to crawl, to drag my body towards what looked like the exit. My hand connected with a small object, sending it skittering across the floor. I snapped my head in the direction of the sound. Everything was so _loud_. I scrambled over to the object and poked it with quivering fingers. New words came into my head. _Ring. Claddagh._ Finally, _Buffy_.

Then, _Kill_.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here's the next chapter, longer like I promised! A big thank you to all of you who followed, favorited and reviewed. I will definately keep posting. Put all your comments, questions, and whatchahoozits in your reviews, and I'll answer them next chapter. Please review, and enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1**

_Hungry. Hungry. So hungry._ It was all I could think about. Well, besides _Buffy_ and _kill_. It took me a while to gain control of all of my movements, but once I did, hunting was too easy. I had done it before, I could tell. Every step was fluid, effortless. I crept through the forest, so silent it was like I wasn't even there. Before long, I caught a scent. The wind carried the smell of sweat through the air. I swiveled my head around and moved over brushes and soil. I could see them through the trees – a boy and a girl, somewhere in their teens. _Fresh_.

They were giggling, their arms tangling around each other. "Johnny, we shouldn't be here. My mom will kill me when she finds out," the girl said, a smile spreading across her face.

"Then let's not tell her," the boy said. He grabbed her hips and pulled her against him.

"Johnny!" She shoved him playfully, but he stumbled backwards and fell into the dirt, with the girl landing on top of him. "_Ow!_"

The boy looked up at her. There was a cut above his eye, and I could see a thin line of crimson appearing from behind the split skin. The sweet aroma wafted towards me, causing me to salivate. _Fresh. Hungry_. I was going to fall upon them. I was going to tear out their throats, but then the boy said something that made me pause. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"What about you? That cut!" said the girl, lifting her hand up to touch the boy's cheek. _A gloved hand rests on my face. We are surrounded by ice_.

"Aw, forget about me," the boy snorted. _Forget about me. This is bad, Buffy. We have to get you out of here._

The girl smiled. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, pursing her lips, but the boy said, "Don't kiss me like this. I'm all dirty now." _You shouldn't have to touch me when I'm like this._

"Oh," the girl snickered. "I didn't even notice." Their lips met.

_I didn't even notice_. I groaned as the voices penetrated my thoughts, clutching my head between my hands. The noise got the teenagers' attention, and they turned their head to look at me. Immediately, the scrambled to their feet, and the boy stepped towards me, concerned.

"Hey, man, you okay? What happened to your clothes?" he asked. _I really can't be around you, because when I am, all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss you_.

"Dude? Can you talk?" He took another step forward. _Kiss. Buffy. I kissed Buffy._ "Are you okay?" One more step.

The girl trembled behind the boy. "Be careful, Johnny," she said.

"Kate, this guy needs help," the boy said to the girl. He turned back to me and approached me a few more steps. "Do you need me to call somebody?" he asked.

_Buffy. Kiss. Kill._ I looked up. _Kill._ "Dude?" the guy said again. A low growl rose in my throat, and I lunged forward. He barely had time to react before my hands closed around his neck. I squeezed. I felt skin tear beneath my grip, and I heard cracking and ripping. His eyes bloodied and bulged, and his body went limp within seconds. The girl screamed as I let the body drop to the dirt. She didn't run or do anything else. She just _screamed_.

Her fear was intoxicating.

I raised my head to look at her. My features morphed, and my vision changed, like I could see through the darkness clearer. I could hear her heartbeat from meters away. The thought of her blood running with terror made my stomach growl with longing. I came upon her slowly; she was too terrified to move.

As I neared her, she found words, "You bastard! Who are you?"

More words filled my mind. _I love you, Angel. Angel. Just kiss me._ I staggered, nearly falling to my knees. The memories, the words, they _hurt_.

"Please, please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just – just let me go," she sobbed.

_Angel… Angel… Angel…_

"Please…" she gasped. She took a step away from me.

"Who am I?" I growled. "I… I'm…" _I love you. Angel._ "I'm…" _Angel. Angel._ "I'm Angelus," I said quietly. As I spoke, memories flooded into me. "Angelus," I whispered. "My name is Angelus." I looked up at the girl. "And I am so hungry."

She didn't have time to scream before I sank my teeth into her throat. I gulped down the thick, savory liquid like a starving animal, which I basically was. It was sweet and rich, and it slid down my throat, spreading warmth through my body, making every inch of me tingle. I felt her pulse weaken, and she let out a small groan before falling down, completely drained.

My mind cleared, and memories emerged slowly. One stood out in particular.

Me, on my knees in front of the Acathla statue. _Buffy…_

_Her lips are so soft, so sweet. I hear her heart pound and her blood rush, but it doesn't matter. I'm with her, and I'm complete. I hear noise behind me, feel a suction, like I'm being pulled into a dark hole. But it's okay. I'm with Buffy._

_She pulls away, and I crave her more and more. Her scent, her touch, I want it so much. She stares deeply into my eyes. Hers are so big, full of emotion. I feel like something is wrong, and I almost ask, but her next words silence me._

_"I love you." Her words fill my heart with song. The pull behind me increases._

_"I love you," I say back, and I mean it with all my heart. I'm hers. All hers. I want her so much._

_Her fingers trail across my lips, her touch delicate and gentle. "Close your eyes," she says. I look at her with a question in my eyes, but she nods reassuringly, and I obey. She kisses me again, but I taste sadness on her lips. It feels like a goodbye._

_Then, pain. Sharp, coldness pierces through me. My eyes snap open, and I look at her in shock. "Buffy…" I groan. I reach my hand out, to touch her one last time, but the force behind me tugs and tugs until I fall inside. Then…_

_Pain. Torment. Fire._

I gasp, pulling myself out of the memory. "That… _bitch_!" I hissed. I looked around, anger boiling inside of me. I was furious, consumed with the need to find the Slayer. I'll make her pay, I thought. I'll show her every second of suffering that she put me through.

I'll make her pay.

I looked down at the boy whose neck I crushed and sniffed. I was still so hungry. I felt insatiable. I grabbed his lifeless form and bit down on its throat.

His blood wasn't as good. For one thing, hers had still been hot with life and fear. His lacked power. It was just so bland, but it filled me up quickly. Once he was drained, I began undressing him. It wouldn't do to fight the Slayer completely naked, after all.

The boy was smaller than me, to the point where I could not button the shirt over my broad chest and he had the feet of an 8-year-old girl. Only the pants and the long, leather jacket fit, but that was good enough for me. I snorted. My life in a nutshell: I was a drunk, then a king, then a junkie, after that a lovesick puppy, and finally, a vengeance-craving vampire fresh out of Hell.

I smirked. What would Darla say to me right now?

* * *

"_Spikey_…" Drusilla moaned. She was curled on the ground in a fetal position. I knelt before her. Seeing her like this always pained me. I think it was mostly the curiosity. I never knew what she saw, but I always saw the aftermath.

She had tears in her eyes, but a smile played at her lips. "What is it, pet? What do you see?" I asked softly.

"I see the whole family back together," she said in a dreamy voice. "And we'll all go dancing in the red water."

Here came the tricky part – trying to piece together her cryptic sentences, sorting out the nonsense from the actual future. The red water bit, I got. It was the other part that confused me. "The family?" I said, careful not to let too much eagerness into my voice. Dru tended to be a little delicate after her visions. You had to use a pet voice on her, or she wouldn't talk.

She giggled and cupped my chin with one slim hand, pulling me closer. "You and me…" she said, her voice as light as a feather.

"Oh, baby," I whispered. I leaned forward, itching to taste her.

"…and Angelus," she finished. I stopped dead, my mouth closing and set in a hard line.

"Angelus?" I said, my voice nearly shaking with anger. "Why would we want Angelus with us? What's so good about him?"

She looked at me, but like always, her eyes looked far away. "Not just him, Spikey. Grandmummy, too."

"Grand – _Darla_?" I sputtered. "Love, she's been dead for… She's dead, Dru. Are you sure you saw her?"

She whimpered, and tears formed in her eyes again. "Spikey, you're hurting my feelings," she mewled.

"No, love, I didn't mean to," I said immediately. I pressed my lips against hers, craving more.

"Mmmm, you taste like stars and seashells," she said when we broke apart.

"Do I?" I breathed. I leaned into her again, but she pulled away with a giggle. "You little tease," I growled playfully as she got up and danced away from me.

"No time for play. We need to get grandmummy back," she drawled, staring at me with a look tinged with longing.

I sighed, and decided to humor her. "And how do you suppose we do that?" I said, attempting tact. It was times like these that I got frustrated with Dru. She made no sense, or when she did, it would be the type of sense you had to think on and decide if it wasn't just insane talk. When she said "grandmummy," she could either mean Darla, or the homeless man we had eaten for dinner that night.

I climbed to my feet as she answered, "We're going back to see our little red friend. And once she brings grandmummy back, _then_ we'll dance and swim and drink," she cooed, swinging her hips with every word.

"Well, that all sounds good and fun, but I don't understand why we need to bring Angelus into this – _or_ how we're even supposed to do that. Last I heard, he was burning in the pits of Hell," I pointed out.

To this, Dru drifted across the floor and touched her fingers to my lips. "Shh," she said softly. "The little boy wants a lick of the ice cream, but it's all melted and full of poison."

I had to chuckle. She was off her rocker, this one was. I circled my hands around her waist and pulled her against my chest. "Alrighty, then," I breathed in her ear. "We'll go back to America and catch up with our…red friend," Whoever _that_ was. "And then we'll get the family back together, like you say. What then?"

She giggled, "Then we have a party. And the Slayer's invited."


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: A huge thank you to all of you who reviewed, favorited, and followed. I'm so glad that you guys are reading my story**

**To Lola Smith: Thanks for reviewing and no, Buffy will not know a single thing about what's to come. At least, I don't plan on letting her know, but who knows? things might change.**

**Next chapter will be up as soon as I can, but in the mean time, enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

_Frankfurt, Germany_

_1894_

"_Bitte, nicht uns verletzen. Wir wussten nicht böse gemeint, ich schwöre. Lassen Sie uns gehen_!_"_ said the young woman I was currently holding by the throat. She was splayed out on the ground while I sat in a chair. Angelus sat opposite to me. We were in a large dining hall, with dozens of well-dressed bodies scattered throughout the room. Most were corpses, but a few live ones were groaning on top of the bed of bodies.

"Shut up," I said tiredly to the woman, biting into her again. I gulped down some more blood before looking back up and continuing the conversation. "And I swear, there's no satisfying that woman," I said. "I give her everything. I bring her fresh, young virgins almost every night, but she never so much as notices. I mean, she seemed interested when she turned me, but now it's like I'm trying to solve this huge puzzle, and I get all the wrong pieces in the wrong place."

Angelus snorted, still gripping his snack in his teeth. He spat the rich man out and shoved him over to the side while saying, "I wouldn't worry about it, Willie. Women can be…unreasonable sometimes. Drusilla will come around." He sniffed and turned his attention to another human lying on his stomach a few meters away. He got up, strode over to the whimpering man, and carried him back to his seat.

"_Nein. Nein. Bitte, nein_," he groaned as Angelus dragged him over the carpeted floor and sat down again in the chair across from me.

I sighed and looked exasperatedly at him, not even bothering to correct him about my name. "You've got it easy, mate. You and Darla have been together for what, 140 years? Not a day goes by when you don't make moon eyes at each other. It's disgusting." I paused for another drink. The woman gave a weak sob, but I ignored her.

To this, Angelus chuckled. "Oh, you don't know Darla and me," he said, his Irish brogue lying heavily on each of his words.

"I know you well enough! It pisses me off, how easy you two have it. You guys kill families all the time, drink together whenever you get the chance, and have very loud sex every night." Angelus gave me a wide grin at the last part of the sentence, and I snorted in reply. After a few more swallows of blood, I said, "I mean, what am I doing wrong? Why can't Drusilla and I have what you and Darla have?"

Angelus quickly finished off his current human and tossed the body to the side. "I can tell you right now, Darla and I don't have it all good," he said, scanning the room for another body. Finding one, he got up again and started for the other side of the room. At this point, I had finished my snack, and I turned my head over to where Angelus was nudging various people with his shoe, searching for signs of life.

"What do you mean, you don't have it all good? Oh, hey, I think I saw that one move. Can you bring him over for me?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he replied. He picked up the body and walked back to his seat, also carrying a limp, but breathing woman in a silken, cream-colored dress.

As soon as he was within range, he tossed me the man. I caught him easily and bit down on his throat while Angelus said, "I mean that we've had our fair share of disagreements."

"Oh, yeah? Name one," I said scornfully.

"Oh, we've had hundreds. But I remember one in particular," said Angelus, gazing upward, a look of reminiscence on his face. "It was France, 1765. Darla and I had just traveled from Italy, and we were followed by a vampire hunter by the name of Holtz."

"Vampire hunters? Those slack-jawed, cocky wankers?" I said.

Angelus took a moment to bite down on the woman and suck some blood. Then, he lifted his head and addressed me, his lips stained red. "Now I know what you're thinking, but Holtz was the real deal. He never tired, never gave up. It was _annoying_. Anyway, he and his crew were able to trap Darla and me in a barn, and we only had our one horse. There was no way we could both escape."

"Really? And what happened after that?" I tried to sound disinterested, but in all honesty, I was always curious about Angelus's stories. I couldn't say that, of course, or I'd never hear the end of it.

"Well, I was ready to go out –" he began, but he was interrupted by a groan from the woman he was feasting on.

"_Warum willst du nicht lassen Sie uns gehen_?_ Welche Art von Monster bist du_?" she whimpered.

In one swift movement, Angelus grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head into an unnatural angle, snapping her neck immediately. "It's not nice to interrupt," he tsked at the corpse, letting it fall off the chair and onto the ground. I smirked, and he turned back to face me. "Where was I? Oh, right. I was going to fight them off. You know, go out in a blaze of glory and all that, but that didn't really suit Darla. So, there I am, getting ready for the fight when next thing I know, I get whacked over the head with a block of wood."

"What?" I scoffed.

He chuckled, "Just what I said! After that, she took our horse and rode off."

I finished off my human and dropped him on the ground beside me. "That bitch!" I said.

He smirked at my reaction. "Oh, but I caught up with her in Vienna, and you can bet that I made her pay," he said.

I was shocked. "And that was the end of it?"

"That was the end of it," he confirmed.

I shook my head. "It's a wonder you two have been together this long. I mean, I get with Dru and fret over the tiniest things, but when Darla double crosses you and leaves you for dead, you just have a couple nice nights and all's forgiven."

"_Nice_ doesn't quite cover my nights with Darla," Angelus sniggered.

"Still," I said, "how do you do it? What makes you stay with her after all that?"

At this, Angelus leaned forward in his seat and looked me in the eyes. Emphasizing his words, he said, "Now pay attention, William, because this is important. You don't spend eternity with someone by just breezing through your relationship like any mortal lad with a wee crush. If your girl ain't pleasing you, you have to take her and _make_ her please you. It's not a game of 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. It's do or don't. It's about finding what you're missing and taking what you want."

I smirked. "Or maybe some relationships are just meant to be. You know, like destiny," I said.

Angelus laughed and leaned back in his chair. "You're such a romantic, William."

I said, "Actually, I go by Spike."

* * *

_Are they, Spike? Are things meant to be?_ I thought as I strolled down the empty streets of Sunnydale. Since coming back, all of my senses felt hyper-tuned to everything around me. I could smell that it had just rained last night. I could hear the distant sounds of traffic from miles away, and I was acutely aware of the roughness of the asphalt beneath my shoeless feet. Everything was extraordinarily vivid and surreal. I could feel _everything_.

Even the memory of pain was fresh in my mind.

Every passing second greeted me with more memories, but all of them flew passed my mind. Only one kept nagging me in the back of my mind, filling me with cold. With every step, I could feel the icy, sharp steel of Buffy's sword plunge into my abdomen, penetrating my insides and bringing the sick taste of betrayal into my mouth.

But why did I feel betrayed? I was a demon through-and-through now, with neither soul nor conscience to hold me back. I should know betrayal like the back of my hand. Heck, I should expect it. Welcome it. But instead, it hurt me like a knife twisting in my gut.

This fueled my hatred towards the Slayer. It made me want her death more than anything, and while I did not understand this anger, I welcomed it. Anger would make me stronger. It would make me not hesitate when the time finally came.

At last, I came to what I was looking for. A concrete stairwell led to a single wooden door. Slowly, I climbed down the stairs, opened the door, and entered the small apartment.

It hadn't changed a bit since I left. The lights still worked. The bed was still unmade, and I bet that if I opened the fridge, I'd find bags of old blood in there. I snorted. Did Buffy leave it the way it was out of affection? After she stabbed me in the gut, literally?

I walked over to the closet and grabbed a black button-up shirt, some pants and a pair of shoes. After dressing myself, I was prepared to leave and not look back, but I found myself by the bed, staring at the wrinkled sheets. Without thinking, I touched the pillow with my fingers.

_"Angel… I feel like if I lost you… You're right, though. We can't be sure of any –"_

_"Shh…" I nuzzled her cheek with mine. The warmth of her bare skin seeped through my wet clothes. "I –" I gulp, feeling as if I'm not able to finish the sentence._

_But she turns to me, hope glimmering in her big, beautiful eyes. "You what?" she whispers._

_Her glimmering gaze gives me strength. "I love you," I murmur._

Quickly, I jerked my hand away from the bed. The good memories were just as painful as the bad.

I wondered why the memories hurt me so much. Before _it_ happened, I knew that I had loved Buffy. I knew that to me, it was obvious. But how could I? Was it just the soul? Could I only love with a soul? I wanted to think that I was capable of love. After all, I had loved Darla for 150 years…if that was even love.

I didn't know anymore, I realized. I didn't even remember what love was, how to achieve it. I remembered that I had thought love could be forced, that affection was something that could be given or taken away like a tangible object, but since Buffy, nothing was as clear as it had been.

Maybe Spike was right. Maybe love just happened. But how could you tell when it did?

I wanted to hit something. I wanted to bite someone. I was all alone in an apartment that used to belong to me, but now was just a hollow shell that felt nothing like a home. I curled my hand into a fist and looked down, and I noticed a glimmer of silver in the light of the lamp by my bed.

The ring. The Claddagh that I had found in the mansion. I didn't remember putting it on. Why had I? Did this mean…something?

Something snapped inside of me then.

I yelled and swung my fist around, burying it deep into the plaster of the wall. I pulled it out and brought it across the stand next to my bed, throwing off lamps and everything else that had been on top. I swung my leg up and crashed it down onto the wood, making it splinter and collapse.

Before I knew it, I was grabbing my refrigerator and throwing it across the room. I kept punching the walls and smashing the furniture until nothing remained but chunks of plaster and broken pieces.

I was yelling the whole time, and I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop until everything was ruined. Soon, I was standing in the middle of the room. My fists were trembling at my sides, blood dripping from my knuckles.

Finally, I stopped shaking and looked around at what I had done. Nothing remained in the room; everything was obliterated. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself, but I knew that I would find no peace. The first thing that came to mind was, _kill Buffy_, but I didn't even know if that would do anything. It seemed like the only thing to do, the only thing I _could_ do. What else would I be good for? Why else would I have been brought back?

I shook my head. Nothing was true anymore. I took a step forward and felt glass crumble beneath my feet. I looked down to see a picture encased in a shattered frame.

It was Buffy in the library of the school. Willow and Oz were smiling into the camera at her left, and Xander had his arm around a bored-looking Cordelia to her right. Buffy was wearing a simple white shirt. Her smile was wide. She looked happy. She looked like she could love.

"Oh, Buffy. What have you done to me?" I said to the picture.

She didn't answer back. She just kept smiling.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, new chapter is up. I hope you guys enjoy it. Please don't forget to review, and I'll see you guys next chapter.**

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**Chapter 3**

I kicked in the doors to the high school, and wasn't surprised to hear commotion from down the hall. I was, however, surprised when a big hunk of flying fur rammed into me from the side. I grunted and fell to the floor as the creature raked its claws across my chest and snarled in my ear.

Regaining my senses, I socked the animal in the jaw, sending it flying the other way. I stood up, shifting into my game face, ready for a battle, when I halted. Something about the creature seemed familiar…

"Oz?" I said carefully. The werewolf snarled in response and lunged towards me. I hit him mid-jump with a side thrust kick to the chest that pushed him back again. My chest throbbed, and I felt blood drip down my shirt. _Goddamn it_!

From down the hall, I could hear voices, "Faith, get him!" Was that Willow?

"I don't have time for you," I groaned at the furry creature. He didn't seem to care. He got up again and jumped towards me once more. This time, I caught him in the jaw with a right hook, and my wound screamed in protest to the sudden movements. He fell to the ground, and I slammed my fist into his cranium. He slumped down, and I got the feeling he was going to stay there.

I looked up as the sound of footsteps neared, hissed in frustration, and bolted down the hallway. Behind me, I could hear Willow shout, "There's Oz! Shoot him!" _He should keep them busy for a while_, I thought.

I continued weaving my way through the halls, looking for any signs of the Slayer. Once she was dead, I could move on to Willow, maybe finish what I started with Giles. And this new Faith character sounded interesting…

Then, I smelled blood. I paused and inhaled deeply. The scent entered my nostrils and made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. This blood had been tampered with. It left a strange chemical taste in my mouth. It definitely didn't belong to a werewolf. So there were two monsters in the building. If I found this one, maybe I'd find Buffy.

I followed the trail to a window near the ceiling. I jumped up and grabbed the edge, then crawled through the small opening onto the roof. I jumped off and looked around. My eyes focused on a door to a supply room. The lights were on inside, and the smell of blood was stronger – both the chemical one from the hallway, and regular, human blood.

"All the same! You're all the same!" I heard someone screech inside, as well as shouts and grunts from a girl. It was then that I recognized the smell of the blood. It was Buffy's.

Without thinking, I burst through the door, practically knocking it off its hinges. Buffy was on the ground, getting pummeled by some veiny creep with long fingernails.

Time seemed to freeze. I realized that he was going to kill her. I could see it in his face; he wasn't holding back, and Buffy seemed off her game.

He was going to kill Buffy. Why did that bug me?

Oh, yeah. Because that was _my_ job.

I launched into action just as Buffy kicked the guy back into some crates. The wood crashed and splintered as his body collided with it. Buffy struggled to her feet but failed, falling back to the ground. The creature emerged from the wooden wreckage.

I rushed forward swung my fist around. It collided with his temple, making his head jerk to the side. Before he had time to react, I caught his left cheek with my other fist. He fell to his knees, and I took the opportunity to knee him in the throat. As he fell onto his back, I swung my leg up in a high arc and brought my heel down, aiming for his nose. He rolled out of the way just in time, and my heel connected to the hard floor, sending pain shooting up my leg. I gritted my teeth and spun around just in time to feel clawed hands wrap around my throat and push me backward.

The creep bent me over a crate. He bared his teeth at me and hissed, "Are you that whore's boyfriend? I'll tear her to shreds once I'm finished with you."

I let loose a roar and socked him in the nose. His grip loosened when he snapped his head back, and I quickly kicked his kneecap with all the strength I could muster. A sickening _CRACK_ filled the air, and he howled in pain as his leg gave out.

I lunged forward and circled behind him. Then, I wrapped my arm around his neck, trapping him in a headlock. I jerked my arm to the side. There was another _CRACK_, his head lolled forward, and he went limp.

Behind me, I heard the scuffling of shoes, and I remembered Buffy. Letting the body drop to the ground, I turned slowly to see her. She had climbed to her feet while I was dealing with Veiny Boy. Her golden hair had been pulled into a bun, and a few loose strands hung in front of her face. A thin line of blood dribbled down her chin from a cut on her lip. Her large, black-rimmed eyes were staring at me in shock. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and finally, she was able to say, "Angel?"

She took an uncertain step towards me. I saw tears glimmer in her eyes. "You're alive," she whispered.

Hunger gleamed in my eyes and a smirk curled my lip. This was the moment I'd been waiting for. I was going to relish every second of it. Carefully, took a step forward, my face morphing back into its regular human features. I quietly assessed her demeanor while planning exactly how to play this out.

She had just gotten a nice beating from Veiny Boy, and was saved by her supposedly dead boyfriend. Understandably, she'd be a bit confused as to what to do. She wouldn't be thinking clearly enough to be cautious. I could use that to my advantage.

I played with my features to make myself seem hurt, confused. I squinted and furrowed my brow, as if I couldn't belief what I was seeing. "Buffy…" I said, making my voice choke with emotion. "I…I had to be here. I had to come back for you."

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was barely audible, but I heard it shake.

"I couldn't stay away, Buffy," I said, starting to walk towards her. Soon, I was close enough to touch her, to hear her heartbeat. "You brought me back. I love you so much."

Then, clarity spread across her face. I don't know what it was, but she saw something, or felt something, that she didn't like. "Angelus." Her voice trembled.

I couldn't stop the wicked grin from spreading across my face. "Oops," I said, before delivering a quick uppercut to her jaw. She stumbled backwards, and grabbed hold of a crate for balance. She looked up, her eyes full of horror.

"How are you here? How is this happening?" she stammered, trying to steady herself. I was getting the perfect reaction. She reeked of instability.

"You set me free, Buff," I said, casually stepping towards her. I continued thoughtfully, "What I don't understand is how I only came back once you decided that I wasn't important enough to think about anymore. I mean, you make the only guy who ever cared about you think that you love him, and then shove a sword in his gut. You'd think that something like that would stick with a person, but no." I shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess you're just not human enough to care."

"This isn't happening. You're not real," Buffy said frantically.

"I'm the only real thing you've got, sweetheart. I'm the only person who ever understood you. You think you can get rid of me so easily?" My voice began to rise, and I found myself growing angry. "Do you think that stabbing me in the stomach will make me go away? No. I'll always be here, lover. Even if I'm just a thought in the back of your mind, I'll never leave you alone."

She tried to stare at me unwaveringly, to appear strong, but tears rolled down her cheek. This was destroying her. I was supposed to enjoy this, but her tears only made me madder. "You're not Angel. Angel is dead," she stated, tears choking up her words.

My eyes flared with wrath. "We'll see how dead you think I am when I'm draining every drop of – _ack_!" Sharp pain went shooting through my skull. My step faltered, and I clutched my head in between my hands. Memories force themselves through my mind, trapping me inside them.

_I see Buffy slowly dancing by herself in the music room. A gun is in her hand, and she sobs quietly as she lifts it into her mouth._

_I come forward and push it down. I can't control myself. The actions aren't mine._

_Buffy turns around and stares at me, eyes wide and tear-filled. "Grace!" she whispered._

_"Don't do this," I say._

_"But – but I killed you," she stammered._

_"It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."_

_"It _is_ my fault. How could I…"_

_"Shh," I say. I'm not the one who's talking, but as I say the words, something stirs inside of me. Thoughts and emotions that should have been gone. "I'm the one who should be sorry, James. You thought I stopped loving you, but I never did. I loved you with my last breath."_

_I love you_.

The words twisted painfully in my mind. I was vaguely aware that Buffy had taken the moment to grab a jagged block of wood.

_I love you_.

I gasped painfully and fell to my knees. The memories replayed in my head. Not just that night in the music room, but every moment we spent together, every kiss we shared.

_I love you. I love you. I love you_.

Everything hurt. Just existing in that world was more painful than anything. Being there, facing Buffy…it was worse than Hell.

_I love you. I love you._

"I love you," I choked painfully as the sentence kept spinning around my mind.

"What?"

Buffy's voice brought me back into reality. She was standing before me, stake in hand, ready to strike, but my words had frozen her in place. I suddenly realized what I had said.

Crap. _I hadn't meant that. I was just in the memory – I didn't mean it like that_! I thought frantically, but Buffy was still in shock. Her eyes were locked onto mine, her brow furrowed in confusion.

But didn't I mean it? My mind was still reeling, and there was a pounding in my head.

"I can't do this. Not now, not like this," I muttered. I made to get up, but Buffy raised the stake threateningly.

"I'll do it," she said sharply.

I sighed, "Buffy…"

Suddenly, the door opened again, revealing Willow and a dark-haired girl with a tranquilizer gun. "Buffy, we found Oz," said Willow. "Did you –" She stopped mid-sentence when she caught sight of me.

No. This couldn't be happening. It was too much. I leapt to my feet and pushed Buffy to the side before sprinting for the exit. Willow and the other girl were too shocked to do anything as I shoved passed them and ran out the door. "Faith, shoot him!" I heard Buffy cry. There was the sound of something being fired, and I felt something sharp hit my lower back, but I was too full of adrenaline to care.

I was already at the nearest cemetery before I started to feel the effects of the dart. I started to slow and stumble along the grass, my movements sloppy and lethargic. I struggled into a crypt and collapsed onto the stone floor. Everything felt meshed together, and my eyelids became heavy. Before I knew it, everything was black.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Okay," said Cordelia. "What exactly do we do now?"

It was the following night in the library, the last night of the fool moon. Oz was growling in his cage, pacing back and forth, while Willow, Cordelia, Xander, I were seated around the table. Faith was leaning against the wall by Oz's cage, tranquilizer gun in hand. Giles stood to the side, the rail above the small staircase supporting his weight.

He carefully removed his glasses and set them on the table. I saw his fingers tremble. "Well, I suppose we could start with how Angelus managed to return to this dimension." Giles gave me a pointed look, as if I would somehow know the answer.

I couldn't think straight. My mind was still in the supply room, watching him snap Pete's neck. I was still staring into his black eyes, feeling his gaze burn into me. That intense hatred that swirled around him like a cloak. I could still hear his words, "I couldn't stay away, Buffy. You brought me back."

"Buffy," Giles said, a bit more sharply. I blinked up at him. "I was talking to you," he went on.

"Oh," I said, sounding slightly detached. "I… I don't know how he could've…" I sighed as my voice failed me.

"Well, did he say anything? Anything that could have hinted as to why he was here?" Giles pushed, his tone anxious.

I could feel my throat burning and my eyes getting blurry, but I swallowed my tears and tried to keep my voice steady. "He, um…he said that I brought him back. He said he…" _I love you so much_, he had said. I couldn't. I couldn't tell them.

"Buffy, are you okay?" Willow asked. I turned my eyes to her and saw her looking back at me, her expression full of concern. I couldn't answer. It felt like a big ball of misery was clogging my throat, keeping any words from getting out.

Giles's voice softened when he spoke to me again, "Buffy, I realize this must be difficult for you, but it is crucial that you share any information you have about Angelus. This could mean life or death."

_Death_. I pictured Miss Calendar in my head, how she would never be able to speak again, never tell me what to do or explain a computer program or hold Giles's hand. I cleared my throat and tried again to speak. "He didn't say much. I think he was mainly concentrated on killing me," I said. Giles made an exasperated noise, and there was silence again before I continued. "But…" I said. I felt everybody's eyes turn to me, and felt my face heat up. Still, I spoke, "Well… Angel had given me a ring. Before he turned evil, I mean. It was a heart with a crown and a pair of hands. The hands mean –"

"I know what a Claddagh is, Buffy," said Giles, a touch of impatience in his voice.

"Right, um…" I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Buffy, you don't have to –" Willow started, but I shook my head at her and continued.

"Since that night with Acathla, I had always worn that ring. I never took it off. A couple days ago, I went to the mansion and set the ring on the ground, where I had stabbed Angel. I guess it was sort of a goodbye for me. I was…letting him go," I finished and looked up at the group. Willow, Xander, Cordelia and Faith were all staring at me, but Giles appeared deep in thought.

"Fascinating…" he said. "It sounds as if the ring was somehow tied to his essence, so that while his body was transported to Hell, a part of him remained here." He regarded Buffy. "I do wonder, however, why the ring waited until now to draw Angelus back into this dimension. I should very much like to observe it," he said.

"I don't have it anymore," I said. He looked a little put down, but nodded.

Xander raised his hand. "I think we're all forgetting something here," he spoke up.

"And what would that be?" I asked.

Xander looked around at everybody, waiting for somebody to say something. When nobody did, he threw his hands up in annoyance. "Angelus!" he exclaimed. "While we're all here talking about rings and Hell dimensions, he's probably out there killing somebody. Why aren't we hunting him?"

Cordelia shifted in her seat. "For once, Xander isn't completely wrong," she said. "If Angelus is back, what's to stop him from killing again? I mean, he already tried to rip Buffy's throat out, and she was his girlfriend. While he's walking around, we're _all_ in danger of getting bled out in the streets."

I heard Giles mutter, "As usual, Cordelia, you stated the situation with utmost tact," before Xander finished the speech with, "I say we go out and stake the son of a bitch."

At Xander's last statement, I froze. I should be all for killing Angelus, but something held me back. I kept thinking about when Angel had looked at me in the supply room, when he had said…

Giles's voice interrupted my thoughts. "I'm afraid Xander is right," he said. "Angelus is a danger to us all. No matter how or why he was brought back, the point is that he's here. And so long as he is, people will die."

"So I'm going to have to kill him. Again," I said bluntly.

Faith spoke up from her spot next to Oz. "Hey, if this Angel guy is as bad as you all say he is, then I'm all for putting him in the ground," she said, waving her tranquilizer gun for emphasis.

My head snapped in her direction. "He's not Angel," I reminded her sharply, my teeth grit together.

Faith shrugged and held up her hands. "Don't shoot me, B. I'm just saying," she said.

Before I could say anything more, Giles turned to me and said, "That's actually not a bad idea. You and Faith can look for Angelus, kill him before he has the chance to do any more harm."

I stared at him, mouth agape. "Harm? What has he done?" I said. I heard my voice start to rise.

"He already killed Pete," Cordelia pointed out.

I rounded on her. "Pete killed Debbie. He was trying to –"

"Buffy, why are you defending him?" Xander interrupted. "You already said he isn't Angel. He isn't your boyfriend. Face it – Angelus _has_ to die."

I looked at him angrily and opened my mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Different emotions swirled around in my head. Everything was so confusing. I knew Angelus had to be killed, and yet I couldn't help but remember what he had said the other night, the way he had looked at me. There had been something in him, something familiar, something…Angel.

"I can stay here and watch Oz," Willow offered.

"Right then," said Giles. He turned and started to give each of us orders. "Faith and Buffy will go out tonight and look for Angelus. Willow, you stay with Oz. In the mean time, Xander, you and Cordelia can help me research this ring, see if we can find anything mystical about it."

One by one, they each got started on their different jobs. When I was the last one at the table, Faith gave her gun to Willow and walked over to me. "You up for this, B?" she asked.

I sighed, "I guess I don't have a choice."

* * *

"So, this the place?" Faith asked from next to me. In addition to the crossbow she was holding, three stakes were strapped to her thigh, and a wickedly sharp dagger had been shoved into her belt.

I nodded. I only had a stake hidden in my coat, and in my hand, I held a longsword with a leather grip and a bronze-colored pommel and cross-guard. "This is the place," I said. We were standing in front of a wooden door at the bottom of a small staircase. Angel's old apartment. "You ready?" I asked her.

"I was about to ask you the same question," she replied with a smirk. I offered a small smile and grasped the doorknob, taking a deep breath. "Here goes," I muttered, and I turned the knob.

I had expected to have to kick down the door, but the knob turned without any hesitation. I knitted my eyebrows and looked at Faith uncertainly. She just shrugged. I turned back to the door and pushed it open, bracing myself for a fight. Instead, I just stood in the doorway, my eyes wide with shock.

"What is it?" Faith peered over my shoulder and stared into the room. "Holy shit," she said dumbly.

"Uh-huh," I agreed, stepping into the room. The whole place was trashed. Smashed objects and bits of furniture littered the ground everywhere. The bed had been broken completely in two. The blanket and sheets were ripped and shredded, and pillow stuffing was scattered on top of the demolished heap. Multiple chunks of plaster were missing, and the minifridge was embedded in the wall on the far side of the room.

Faith followed me into the room, carefully stepping over the fragmented remains of Angel's apartment. There was a _crack_, and Faith whirled around, crossbow raised and ready to fire. "Sorry," I said sheepishly. "Stepped on some glass."

Faith sighed and lowered her weapon. "Any idea what the hell happened here?" she asked.

"Well, I didn't leave it like this," I said. I knelt down and picked up the picture I had stepped on. It was a small photo of Willow, Xander, Cordelia, Oz, and me. All of my friends were smiling, but there was a big, ripped hole in the picture where my face should've been. "Angel must've come here," I murmured.

"Whoa, your boyfriend did this?" Faith stopped and looked around at the ruined apartment. "He has some serious issues," she finished.

"You think I didn't know that?" I snapped.

In response, Faith shot me an angry glare. "What's your problem, B?" she said. "I'm over here trying to help, and you start getting all pissy. I thought we already settled this – your beaux's gone bad."

"He's _not_ my beaux and he's _not_ –" I stopped before the word, _bad_, but Faith guessed what I was about to say.

Her eyes narrowed. "Open your eyes, B. He tried to kill you. And, besides Pete, he's probably killed somebody else. Angel's a psycho and a murderer. A few months in Hell didn't change that," she said.

"Maybe you're wrong," I retorted. "Maybe he _has_ changed."

"And what would make you think that?"

I took a deep breath. "When we were in the supply room…when I was with Angel…he told me he loved me," I admitted.

Faith just rolled her eyes. "How can you be so sure he was telling the truth?" she asked. "He probably just said that to keep you from staking him. And it worked, didn't it? He got away."

_No. No. He's still my Angel_, I told myself. "But…he was in pain," I said desperately, remembering his agonized expression.

"Buffy, if there's one thing to be learned from Angel, it's that he's a faker. He was playing you, B," Faith said.

Tears began to form in my eyes, and I shook my head. "It – it felt so real," I gasped.

Faith walked over and looked into my eyes. "I'm sorry, Buffy, but Angel is dead. And right now, we need to focus on finding the thing that killed him."

I took a shuddering breath and nodded my head. Faith was right. Whatever was left of Angel was probably still burning in Hell. All that remained was a monster, no less brutal and despicable than any other vampire I'd faced. "You're right," I said reluctantly.

Faith nodded and looked around the room once more. "Well, there's nothing left here. He must've just trashed the place and left." She turned back to me. "Where else would he be?"

I felt cold. I'd been avoiding this. "There's one last place we haven't checked," I said. "The mansion where I killed him."

Faith took a breath and headed to the exit. "Okay, then, Buffy. Let's go." I followed behind her, took one last look at what remained of Angel's home, and walked out the doorway.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I woke up in a pool of blood.

I was still mostly asleep when the smell crept into my nostrils. Thick and powerful, the stench of blood. Not hot and savory, but the cold dead blood of a vampire. _My blood_, I realized. I tried to open my eyelids, but they were so heavy. I don't even know how long it took for me to regain enough feeling throughout my body to actually move. First I groaned, then I opened my eyes to see a puddle of dark red had formed around my torso, soaking through my shirt.

I lifted my head and wiped some of the crimson moisture from my cheek, and my chest throbbed, reminding me of where all the blood had come from. I sighed and ripped open my shirt, not even bothering to undo the buttons. It was already ruined and blood-soaked anyway.

The claw marks that Oz had given me were already starting to scab over, but as my mind started to surface above the thick fog of the sedative, I realized something. _I had been bleeding. I must have left a trail all the way from the school_. I cursed. The last thing I needed was to meet up with the Slayer again, especially after I'd already been drugged and wounded.

I struggled to my feet. My legs were still numb, and I staggered once I had climbed off the floor. I grimaced. Every movement sent another pang ripping through my chest. Slowly, using the wall for support, I plodded out of the crypt and headed towards the mansion. I was too exhausted to even consider that two Slayers would be waiting for me there.

* * *

It was eerily quiet at the mansion. There weren't even any insects buzzing. There were just the sounds of Faith and me breathing and the soft _clunk clunk_ of our shoes hitting the marble floor. I held my longsword up, ready to strike if I heard anything. Faith tried not to look scared, but I could tell she was nervous by the way she held her crossbow. And arrow was notched, and she clutched the wooden base of the bow until her knuckles turned white.

I decided to break the silence, "Do you hear anything?" I whispered.

Faith shook her head. "It's dead quiet in here," she said. God, I wish she hadn't said _dead_.

We crept into the largest room, and I looked over at the front wall and narrowed my eyes, trying to peer through the darkness. I inched closer to the front of the room, my eyes travelling to a mark on the floor. "Faith…" I whispered.

"See something, B?" came her hushed reply.

As I neared the wall, I was able to make out the marks on the floor – a blackened outline of a body. I bent down and ran my fingers across the line of burnt stone. "This is where I set down the ring," I murmured. "This is where I killed Angel… and this is where he came back."

There was a moment more of quiet, and then – "Did you hear that?" Faith's voice had an edge to it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her raise the crossbow.

I turned around slowly and stilled, straining my ears for any noise. There was a good solid minute before I spoke. "There's nothing here," I said.

Faith relaxed visibly, her shoulders dropping from their tense positions. "I thought I heard something –" she was able to say before an arm jumped out from the shadows, circled around her neck, and squeezed.

In an instant, I was on my feet. I charged forward, sword raised, but another arm struck me across the face, sending me reeling backwards. I heard Faith's crossbow clatter onto the ground. "Buffy…" she choked out before she gasped, and I heard the _thud_ of her body hitting the floor.

I regained my senses and grabbed for my sword. As I closed my fingers around the leather hilt, a shoe connected to my stomach, and I rolled across the floor, sword in hand. I jumped to my feet, and Angelus stepped out from the shadows. I ran towards him again and swung my sword around. At the same instant, his fingers closed around my neck.

Our bodies were pressed together; his hand was circled around my throat, and the tip of my sword was pressed against his. I stared into his eyes, expecting to see fury, but he just looked tired. His lids were half closed over his black eyes, and every line on his face looked more pronounced.

I glared at him. "I could lob off your head in an instant," I snarled.

"And I could crush your throat before you so much as twitched that sword," he replied evenly.

"You killed Faith," I rounded on him again.

His tone didn't change. "Oxygen deprivation. She's just unconscious."

None of us moved for a moment, and then I slowly lowered my sword from his neck. He hesitated, but withdrew his hand and stepped away. I looked at him carefully. One side of his face was stained crimson, and I noticed that the entire front half of his shirt was soaked through with blood. "You're hurt." I stepped forward.

Angelus flinched back, his hand automatically travelling to his stomach. I halted in my tracks, and he snorted. "I just came here to change my shirt," he said.

"Let me see." I took another step towards him.

Faster than blinking, Angelus knocked the sword from my hand and was holding it in his. In a blur, he was right in front of me, grasping my hair and yanking my head back, exposing my throat. I felt the bite of cold steel against my jugular, and I knew that he had the sword pressed against my skin.

I looked up at him. He didn't return my gaze, but his eyes were trained on my throat. I saw a battle in his eyes; I felt him struggling. "Why don't you do it?" I said, my voice weak.

Angelus growled and pressed the sword harder, nicking a vein. A drop of warm blood slid down my skin. His eyes seemed to grow darker, and he leaned his head forward. The bridge of his nose touched the bottom of my chin. Angelus inhaled deeply. His touch made me tingle. His cold skin against mine felt natural and alluring, and I shuddered despite myself.

He growled again, this time in frustration. He shoved me away forcefully and stepped back, the sword still in one hand. We just stared at each other for a moment. His gaze was fierce and alert, all signs of fatigue erased from his features. Finally, he snarled angrily. "What did you do to me?" he rasped.

I was taken aback. "What do you mean?" I asked.

Angelus raised the sword and pointed the tip at me threateningly. "Don't play games with me, Slayer," he said. "I know you did something. Ever since I got back, I've… These memories, these feelings, they're not mine. I don't want them."

As I stared at the blade of the sword, my blood ran cold. I honestly didn't know if he'd kill me or not, but I couldn't deny that there was something off about Angel. I couldn't tell if he was good, bad, or somewhere in between. I had _seen_ Angel the other night in the supply room. I'd felt his eyes on me. But who was I facing now? Angel or Angelus? My boyfriend or the monster that wore his face?

"You won't use that," I said. I tried to sound sure, confident, but I knew it was a gamble.

In response, Angelus stepped forward, not lowering the sword one bit. "Are you sure of that?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

The tip was so close to me, I could almost feel the sting of the metal. I couldn't talk, only nod and keep my eyes steady.

"Why would you think that?"

I took a deep breath and said, "You've had plenty of chances to kill me, Angelus. Just a second ago, you had that sword to my neck, and now suddenly you're all the way over there." A look passed over his face briefly. For no more than a second, he looked pained, confused, but then he was just staring at me coldly like before. This gave me encouragement to keep talking. "The others don't believe me, but I _saw_ you yesterday, Angelus. The real you. I know there's still some good left in you."

He scoffed. "Yeah?" he said sardonically. "If I'm so good, why do you keep calling me Angelus?" He blinked, and his face changed. His eyes turned golden and ferocious. His brow lowered to make his face seem more feral. I saw the tips of gleaming white incisors poking out from his top lip. "If I'm so good," he continued, "then why do I want to do _this_?"

He quickly withdrew the sword and was next to Faith a moment later, her limp body in his arms. He gave me a savage smile before baring his fangs and bending towards her outstretched neck.

I hesitated only a second before dashing forward and sending a roundhouse kick to his temple. He staggered backward as the blow connected, letting Faith drop to the ground. He quickly regained his senses before I could strike again, and he backhanded me with enough force to leave the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. He grabbed my neck and slammed me against the wall, and he brought his fist up. He punched me once, twice, three times before I gathered enough strength to bring my knee to his chest. His eyes widened, and he released me immediately.

I slid to the floor, my head swimming. I saw Angelus stumble backwards and fall to his knees. One hand was clutching his already blood-soaked shirt. More scarlet liquid oozed out from between his fingers and dripped onto the floor. When he looked up at me, his face morphed back to display his human features. I stared at him wearily, my breath ragged, and he grimaced back at me and gave me a pained smile. "If I'm so good, then why did I enjoy that so much?" he panted.

I didn't know what to say to that. Angelus struggled back to his feet. He winced, clutching his chest tighter. Not even paying any more attention to me, he turned away and wandered over to a trunk that was stationed next to the unlit fireplace. I stayed with my back against the wall, trying to keep my head from spinning as he opened the trunk and pulled out some gauze and a dark gray tee.

Carefully, he began to unbutton his bloody shirt, grimacing with every movement. Using the wall for support, I stood up and walked toward him as he peeled the wet fabric from his skin. He didn't even acknowledge me. Soon, Angelus was completely shirtless. My breath hitched – I couldn't help it. Muscles rippled beneath his bruised and battered skin. I could see four jagged claw-marks splitting the skin across his chest. Bits of flesh and scab hung from the ugly wound. As his hands worked with the gauze, fresh ribbons of red streamed down his torso.

"Did Pete do that to you?" I asked softly, remembering his fight with the creep in the supply room.

Angelus barely even glanced at me. "Oz," he answered.

"Oh," I said dumbly. I was silent for a moment, watching him unroll a long strip of gauze. When Angelus bent his elbow back, his face twitched, and he emitted a small grunt of pain. "Here," I said a little too quickly. "Let me do it."

"I can take care of myself," he growled, but he let me take the gauze from his hands and swathe the fabric around his injury before folding it underneath the wrap. He didn't thank me, but just pulled the gray shirt over his head without making eye contact with me.

When Angelus made to step away, I reached my hand up and gently cupped his cheek. He froze, and finally, his eyes met mine. I could see something in the way he gazed at me, something I couldn't identify, but I knew that it wasn't evil. "Angel…" I murmured. Before I knew what I was doing, I began to lean forward, closing my eyes. I knew I shouldn't. I knew that it wasn't right, but nothing seemed to matter at that moment. I just had to have him again…

But Angelus craned his neck away so that our lips couldn't touch. "That's not who I am anymore," he said. There was no desire or love in his tone, but his voice was hushed and strained, like his own words were hurting him. As I opened my eyes, I saw that his were far away and pained.

"You're remembering," I realized. "You're remembering everything that we had. You know that things are supposed to be like this." I traced my thumb along his cheekbone. "You know you're not evil," I said.

He reached up and held my wrist in his hand. For a moment, he just trailed his finger against my skin, just like he used to, but then he pulled my hand away and stepped back. Angelus's face was so familiar, so statuesque and perfect, but the emotion behind his features was cold and alien, like a stranger wearing a mask.

"When I first came back, when I was lying right over there –" Angelus pointed at the blackened outline of the body at the front of the room. "– do you know what my first thought was?" He paused, waiting for me to answer. When I didn't, he said, "It was to kill you. It was to tear your throat out and drink you dry. Now tell me, Buffy, how is that not evil?"

What could you say to something like that? I looked at Angelus, and I couldn't see a soul, but I knew in my heart that there was still something left in him that felt for me. Why else would I still be alive? I said the only thing that came to mind when I stared at his face. "I love you," I said.

Angelus looked at me for a moment, not saying anything. Then, he said, "I know that I used to love you." He paused again. I felt my heart thud beneath my chest. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck. And above all else, I could feel Angelus's eyes focused on me. We were the only two people in the world, and whatever he said next was the only thing that mattered. "Now," he continued quietly, "I don't know what you are to me."

Before I could reply, I heard a groan, and I turned to see Faith stir. "She'll wake up soon," Angelus stated flatly.

I opened and closed my mouth a couple times before I finally managed to find my voice. "When she does, she'll probably try to kill you," I said.

Angelus turned and looked at me. "Well then," he said, "It would be best if I weren't here when she comes to."

"So you'll leave." I knew that he had to, but it still upset me. "She might have some questions for me once you're gone."

Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to simplify things for you," he said. I didn't get the chance to ask what he meant before he punched me straight in the nose. I saw stars for a moment, and then I fell into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry about both the super long wait and the super short story, but between writer's block, schoolwork, and marching band, I've barely had time to breathe. Please review telling me what you think of this chapter, and I'll try to get the next one up as soon as humanly possible.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

I slowly drifted into consciousness. When I was able to open my eyes all the way, I saw the Buffy's lifeless body slumped on the floor a few meters away.

I stayed absolutely still. The last thing I remembered was a strong arm constricting me, that horrible feeling of suffocation, and then…nothing. Angelus must've come around here. He tried to kill me. I slowly realized, _He might've killed Buffy. He could still be here_.

My eyes scanned the floor until I caught sight of the cross bow I had dropped, lying just a few feet away. My muscles bunched, and I sprang into action. I rolled across the ground, scooped up the crossbow, and was kneeling next to Buffy a second later, my back to her. My crossbow was at the ready, and I was scanning the room for any signs of movement. Everything seemed still, but I wasn't about to make that mistake again.

Without turning my head, I leaned over and said urgently, "Buffy?" There was no reply. "Goddamn it, B, don't do this to me." Still, only silence. For a moment, I debated if it was worth the risk of attack to turn my attention to her. "Screw it," I finally muttered, and I whirled around so that I was facing Buffy. I rolled her onto her back. Her eyes were closed. Blood had collected and dried beneath her nostrils and around her split lip. Several purple, swollen spots dotted her face. "Buffy? Come on, wake up, B," I said. I turned my eyes her neck, taking notice of the long, thin slice right below her jugular. I stuck my index and middle finger beneath her chin and felt the strong, steady pulse of her heartbeat. I sighed in relief. _Thank God_.

Suddenly, she stirred. Her eyes drifted open and looked around in confusion. "What happened?" She asked weakly.

"Don't ask me, B. I only just woke up," I replied.

Slowly, she sat up, and I backed away. "Angelus…he must've knocked me out and ran…" She sounded unsure of herself.

"Why didn't the bastard just kill us?" I wondered aloud.

To this, she shrugged. "He was bleeding pretty badly when I saw him. He probably wasn't thinking too clearly," she said.

"What did he say?" I asked.

She hesitated before answering, "Nothing. He just took you out and then…" She brought a finger up under her nose and pulled it back, observing the blood that now coated the tip. "He didn't say anything," she repeated.

For whatever reason, I doubted that.

* * *

_Caborca, Mexico_

I was slumped over the bar counter, clutching my 5th beer bottle of the day. I'd always been told off by Angelus or Darla whenever I got this drunk in the past. They said it dulled my senses or something like that. But both were gone now, and there was no one to stop me from getting wasted.

Behind me, I could hear Dru talking with some Mexican pretty-boy. She had a steady purr in her voice, a flirtatious tone that she usually reserved for me. Nowadays, she didn't even want to look at me. I didn't even know she could _speak_ Spanish. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing her trace a finger down Pretty-boy's arm. I snorted. Apparently, there was a lot I didn't know about Dru.

I downed the last drop of my beer, and dropped the bottle onto the floor, watching in mild interest as it shattered onto the scratched wooden floor.

"_Hey, idiota! Usted sabe que va a limpiar eso?_" shouted the squat, ugly man behind the counter of the bar. I rolled my head around and stared at him with glazed eyes. Even if I wasn't drunk off my arse, I understood little Spanish. The fact that it was coming from a smelly human made me even less interested.

"Piss off, Leatherface," I slurred. "I'm not interested."

The Mexican man wouldn't let up. He waddled up to me and stuck out his pug-face, trying and failing to look threatening. "_¿No me oyes, gringo? Estoy hablando con usted!_"

The string of foreign words sounded too jumbled. I rolled my eyes and looked drunkenly around before catching sight of another Mexican sipping a beer two seats down from me. I struggled off my chair and plodded up to him, shoved him out of the seat, and quickly drank up what was left in his bottle.

"_Eso es suficiente. Tienes que salir de aquí._" The bartender scuffled around the counter and tried to push me out of the way, but as soon as he touched my arm, I turned towards him, gripped his wrist, and twisted sharply. There was a _snap_, and the next moment, the bartender was howling, clutching his hand to his chest.

"Next time you touch me, I take it _off_," I snapped. I prepared to grab another beer from over the counter, when I felt someone crack a bottle over my head. I flinched and whirled around a moment later, to see a burly man looming over me, another beer bottle raised threateningly above his head.

"_Creo que deberías dejar_," he growled at me, lightly tapping his beer bottle against his palm.

I gingerly touched the back of my head and felt ragged flesh with thick, wet, blood. I winced and eyed the burly Mexican coldly. "That hurt," I said before punching him in the face with enough force to crumble his skull. He stumbled backwards and landed hard on the floor. I thought he was dead until he coughed out a stream of blood from what was left of his mouth.

I chuckled, grabbed another beer bottle, and snapped off the top. Preparing to take a swig, I chuckled quietly, "That's what you get for trying to mess with William the Bloo–"

I was cut off suddenly when half a dozen drunken humans simultaneously tackled me.

The fight was short, but sweet. By the time it was over, the floor was littered with corpses and bone fragments. I staggered to my feet and licked some of the blood off my fingers. "Beer and blood," I chuckled. "No better way to spend the weekend, eh, Dru?"

When there was no response, I turned to face her direction. "Dru –" I stopped dead. Drusilla was crouched over the limp form of the guy she was flirting with earlier. He was barely breathing, gurgling out oxygen from his ragged throat. When she realized I was staring at her, she turned her head up and looked at me with doe eyes.

"Look at him, Spike," she cooed, "all bloody and suffering." She looked at the broken mess in adoration. "Can I keep him, Spike? I can play with him forever."

She might as well have held a cross to my throat; it would have hurt just as much. "No, you can't keep him, Dru," I growled through clenched teeth.

"But Spike…"

I strode over, grasped the man's head between my hands, and squeezed until he stopped squirming. "You can't _keep_ him, Dru," I repeated. She didn't reply, but just gave me a sad, pouty look, like a toddler whose favorite toy was just taken away. "Now come on, Dru," I said. "Unless you don't want the Slayer's friend to resurrect Darla after all."


End file.
